


special.

by chirpsilon



Category: Red vs. Blue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 21:59:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3265844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chirpsilon/pseuds/chirpsilon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You've never felt special.</p>
            </blockquote>





	special.

You’ve never felt special.

It wasn’t that you weren’t, or that people didn’t make you feel special, or that you were incapable of something a little more out there -- It was that you never felt the need to feel special. You were doing things you needed to do, busy with one thing or another, thoughts racing to keep up with the blur of your surroundings in your record-breaking meet in high school. You didn’t need to feel special.

You never voiced this, didn’t think you ever had to. You knew what people were going to say, a million faces and a million voices all blending into one vague image that said, “You are so special.” It wasn’t a funny thought, amusing when you needed if you needed it, nor was it something she wanted to believe in. You’re human. Humans are some pretty amazing people. Why feel the need to make things more than that?

To be honest, you’ve never felt special because you believed everyone was special. And if everyone was special, then the idea of ‘special’ became redundant. Instead of special, you just thought, best. You never knew if that logic made sense. In words, it really didn’t. But it’s alright. The point was: You saw the best in everyone. You knew who excelled in calculus, sought them out for help with homework; You knew who ran the fastest on the track, on the field. You stared at her every morning when you dressed up for the day ahead.

You’ve thought about it. Thought about how odd it might sound to other people. You’ve gotten to the conclusion that it’s just modesty, that the idea of being the best was an idea filled with narcissism and needless effort and constant need for validity, and that not feeling the need for that was just being modest. So when people complimented you, you said, ‘Thank you.’ You didn’t need to say more, didn’t need to expect more. Just knowing that people saw you were trying your best was enough for you.

But things changed one day. You looked at him. He looked at you. He said something stupid, and you retorted. You remember smiling the entire time; It was small, it was bashful. It was modest. But he said it was special.

What was?

_Your smile. It’s special._

You didn’t ask why, didn’t think you had to. But a part of you tugged at something, and suddenly all you wanted to do was bring it up. It was all you’d think about. There was something about this topic, something, and you couldn’t put your finger on it, because it was something you were so unfamiliar with. You thought about him. His smile. The blue of his eyes. The way his fingers lazily wrapped around the lighter. You didn’t understand. How could you? You had misinterpreted it your entire life.

It didn’t bother you at first, the leaderboard. It was always up there, hovering, making a statement when statements weren’t needed. You got to the top quickly, only days after the system was implemented. You smiled. You were the best. It was something to be proud of. You couldn’t figure out what it was, but there was something about it.

It didn’t bother you for a long time. You humored your teammates about it, teasing them about the ranking only because you enjoyed seeing the different ways they would respond. You couldn’t put all their faces together, couldn’t put them all on one image, one face. Washington had his thick eyebrows that furrowed, the thin lips that pouted. South had bright eyes hidden behind choppy pink streaks of hair that rolled every time you spoke. North had dimples. York - He was something else.

Then things changed. Changed before you knew they had. You didn’t notice it at first; The way you’d go in for an extra session in the training room when someone else gained even a fraction of a point. You didn’t notice the way your frown deepened when they reached another point, another step closer to your score. Your place. You were at top. You needed to stay there. You had to prove yourself. Prove. To everyone, you had to. Don’t think about anything else.

Special.

You.

You were special.

You were so special, so very special. It was a shame that you only didn’t understand your entire life.

 

 


End file.
